Requiem by CRIMS0N HAZE and Xfilesguy123

A/N-As with my other stories, this fic has taken a sabbatical. Hope there are still some fans/readers out there.

Chapter 4

Chance managed a few hours of sleep. He woke up at six, anxious and not tired enough to go to bed. It was too early to go the hospital. Zack would still be asleep and most of the staff who had witnessed his shooting didn't get in until eight-thirty or nine. Chance kept himself busy and his mind off the case by doing some laundry. Household chores allowed him to save himself from overworking. If Chance thought about a case 24/7, he would go crazy. Toby came into the kitchen as Chance was folding the clean laundry.

"Ah, laundry day," noticed Toby.

"What do you do to your clothes, kid?" asked Chance, holding up a pair of ripped Spider-man underwear.

"Normal wear and tear," said Toby.

"What? Where you rock climbing in your underwear?" asked Chance.

"Dad, I've had those since I was six," explained Toby. Chance shrugged and folded them.

"Their still useable," he said, picking up a pair of jeans.

"Don't forget, I'm going to Greg's today," reminded Toby.

"I know. I'll drop you off on the way to the office," said Chance, as he put the basket of clean clothes aside.

"How about some breakfast? Pancakes sound good?" asked Chance. Toby nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought of Chance's homemade pancakes. Chance had inherited the recipe from his mother.

…………..

Jack Cole sighed as the detective flipped through his notes. Seven-thirty in the morning and he was answering questions about an attempted murder.

"Did you see the person who shot Zack Martin?" asked Detective Jim Burnett.

"I might have seen someone in a tan windbreaker. I can't really remember. I was focused on saving Zack's life," replied Jack.

"Tan windbreaker, huh? Was the hood up?"
"I don't remember seeing a hood. But I also can't really be sure if I saw someone in a tan windbreaker. I hope that helps."

"Well if we find any witnesses to the other murders who saw someone in a tan windbreaker then we have ourselves a suspect."

"A guy in a tan windbreaker? That won't be hard to find."

"It's better then nothing." Jack shrugged.

"I need to go check on Zack so unless you have anything else," started Jack. Jim shook his head.

"The FBI will want to question you. But that's all I need," said Jim. Jack nodded and walked off towards Zack's room.

……………

Chance plopped another pancake onto Toby's plate. It was Toby's fourth.

"Good God, boy, you can eat," said Chance.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Besides I have a game today at six. I need to be well nourished and well rested," said Toby, pouring syrup over the pancake.

"I didn't help in the well rested department last night, did I?" asked Chance.

"Don't worry, Dad. I fell right back asleep. Besides, I like when you come and visit me after I've gone to bed," said Toby, taking a big bite of pancake. Chance smiled. He sighed as the kitchen phone rang.

"I can't even eat breakfast in peace," groaned Chance. He sighed and pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Special agent Chance Matthews?" asked the caller.

"This is he."

"My name is William Cross. I understand you'll be the profiler on the Caliber case."

"That's right."

"Then you'd better hurry and get down to the grocery store on 14th Street. There's been another murder. Seems the killer had to make up for that boy surviving."

"Alright. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I'll see you then." Cross hung up. Chance sighed.

"Toby, hurry up and eat so I can drop you off at Greg's. I have to get to 14th Street soon," said Chance, hanging the phone up. Toby nodded and finished off his pancake. Chance sighed. This was going to be a long day.

The scene at the Eat Well Supermarket resembled a haphazard tailgating party. Cops cars, news vans, a few other cars belonging to FBI agents. The scene was total chaos. Chance made his way through the crowd of cops, forensic people, and FBI agents. Special agent William Cross was standing by the body of a young woman. Brad Patterson was standing next to him.

"Agent Matthews," hollered Patterson, waving Chance over. Chance made his way through the crowd of people, avoiding the gaze of reporters. They would surround him if they got a chance. A few noticed him and made their way over to him. Chance ducked under the police tape quickly before they had a chance to throw questions at him.

"Agent Matthews, this is William Cross. Cross, this is Chance Matthews," introduced Patterson.

"It's an honor, sir," said Chance, shaking Cross' hand.

"Oh please. Don't call me sir. It makes me feel old," complained Cross. "William is fine."

"Do we have an ID?" asked Chance, looking down at the body.

"Valerie Haas. 23. She's a freshman at Harvard Law. She was in town visiting her parents. She was just coming her to pick up a few things," explained Cross. Chance shook his head.

"Where was the bullet found?" asked Chance.

"Near a pick-up truck about ten feet away. No one saw a thing," replied Cross.

"Who's the truck registered to?" asked Chance.

"We're checking on that," answered Patterson.

"You don't think the killer left his truck behind, do you?" asked Cross.

"You never know. Some killers like to play games. He maybe registered it under a false name and then left it here to mock us," explained Chance. Patterson let out a sigh.

"Is there any evidence of this guy playing mind games?" asked Patterson.

"It wouldn't surprise me. He thinks he's smarter then us so he shoves this in our face as a cruel joke," replied Chance. An FBI agent ran up to Patterson.

"Sir, our man just got to the hospital. He's ready to begin questioning," explained the agent.

"Proceed," replied Patterson.

"Question who?" asked Chance.

"Cody Martin. We've got to find out if that boy say anything," answered Patterson.

"Is Storm there?" asked Chance.

"What?"

"Is Storm Henshaw there?"

"Not yet. Why?" asked Patterson.

"You can't question Cody unless she's there. She'll sue the bureau so fast your head will spin."

"Then have Agent Burgess wait until Ms. Henshaw gets there," said Patterson to the other agent. The agent nodded and walked off.

"I was going to question Jack Cole this morning. Unless you want to handle this," said Chance. Cross shook his head.

"I'll get this. I need a profiler handling questioning. I'll call you if anything comes up," explained Cross. Chance nodded. He nodded at Patterson and headed to his car. He had to get to the hospital before Agent Burgess began digging into Cody's psyche.

……..

Cody watched Zack sleep. There wasn't much else to do. Zack was improving a little. He was responsive to touch and would squeeze Cody's hand if Cody squeezed first. His heart was still strong and his chest was healing nicely. The surgeons had done a great job. But Zack was still unconscious and doctors weren't sure when he would wake up. Cody had heard two doctors talking about the possibility of another surgery. Cody prayed that wouldn't happen. Zack had already been in surgery enough. Cody looked up as Jack Cole walked into the room.

"Hey, Cody. Look, Zack's latest scans show that the bullet did more damage then we thought. Plus we got some disturbing news from ballistics. It broke apart a little and a piece of it went down into his belly. We need to get it out. Plus this gives us a chance to explore his stomach and make sure everything is OK." Cody sighed.

"Another operation? Well, he'll be fine as long as you're working on him," replied Cody, looking at Zack with sympathy. Zack looked so helpless. Jack left to get Zack's usual surgeons together as Cody explained everything to Zack. Zack didn't respond in anyway.

"This sucks," Cody murmured, stroking Zack's arm, "But it is going to get better." He looked at Zack's lax face, "All this suffering can't be for nothing. It's just making us stronger, Buddy."

He took Zack's hand, "We will get through this together, Zack. You, me, and Mom. And we have this great detective and a lawyer on our side and they are going to get whoever did this to you. That monster is not getting away with this."

The door opened and Carey walked inside. Her hair was oily and she had dark circles under her eyes. Cody wondered when was the last time that she got a good night's sleep.

"Hey, Cody," she said tiredly, sitting down beside him, "Did Jack speak to you?"

Cody nodded, "Another surgery?"

"Yeah," she said, running her hands through her short blonde hair, "But Jack seems optimistic. And it will be the same surgeons who have been operating on him since he came in--they know the inside of his body by now."

Cody smirked, "Yeah, Jack told me what they would do."

"It is scheduled for eight o'clock tonight. They want to take care of the bullet as soon as possible so that it doesn't do too much damage, but they want to give Zack the rest of the day to gather his strength.

Cody returned his gaze to his twin brother. Despite the tubes and wires and needles, Zack seemed comfortable. That probably had a lot to do with his lack of consciousness, but Cody did not want to look too carefully into semantics when Zack's wellbeing was involved.

Cody tangled his fingers into Zack's silky blond hair and pushed his bangs back. He looked at Carey and their eyes locked. "Do you think he'll wake up before then?"

"M'awake now."

Cody and Carey jumped, then rested their surprised gazes on Zack.

"Hey," Cody said, resting his hand on Zack's head, "How are you feeling?"

"Can't sleep with you playing with my hair," Zack mumbled, blinking the sleep from his blue eyes.

Cody grinned and withdrew his hand, "Well I'm glad that it got you to wake up."

Zack smiled back, and then glanced around the room. His eyes widened, "I--I thought we were going home."

His voice trailed off and his smile became a grimace, "Oh my God," he grunted, clutching his chest.

"Zack!" Carey cried, rushing toward the bed. She placed one hand on Zack's arm which was holding his chest, right where he had been shot.

"Hurts," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"It's okay," Carey said, touching his cheek, "Breathe through it, Baby. I'll get a doctor in here."

She fumbled for the call button and pressed down.

Beads of sweat dotted Zack's forehead. His features were twisted with pain.

Cody placed a comforting hand on Zack's forehead and Carey helped him get into a sitting position. He had been taken off the ventilator earlier that day, and the top of the bed was tilted at an angle because it would be easier for Zack to breathe when he was in an upright position.

A nurse rushed in, answering the call. But before she even opened her mouth to ask what happened, Zack's eyes rolled back and he went limp in his mother's arms.

"Zack?" Carey asked, gently tapping his cheeks, "Baby, wake up."

"Wake up, Zack," Cody echoed.

"He was awake," Carey said desperately, sensing the nurse's presence, "He was awake and he was in pain."

The nurse nodded, "I'll speak with Dr. Cole," she said gently, "See if we can get him some more Morphine."

"No!" Cody cried, "The morphine just knocks him out. He was awake just a few minutes ago, and he could wake up again! But he won't if you guys keep drugging him!"

Carey carefully laid Zack back down, then went to comfort her other son. The nurse walked out of the room without a word and set out to find Jack Cole.

"Cody, he's weak," she said, pulling him into a hug, "I don't want him to be in any more pain then he already is."

Cody's eyes filled up with tears, "I just want him awake," he whispered hopefully.

"I know," she said. She felt a strain in her throat and a sting in her eyes, "So do I."

---------------

Storm Henshaw pulled into the parking lot of Boston General in her navy blue Mercedes. She had been up all night reading about the Martins' previous case, and finding everything she could on the .45 Caliber. She also looked into some closed cases that were similar to the present ones. She still could not figure out if the Martins and the .45 were connected. It seemed obvious that they were, but she still wasn't positive.

Most lawyers left the research aspects to paralegals. Storm did have a few adjuncts studying some old files to help prepare the case, but she did most of the research herself. That was what drew her into the law field in the first place. She loved the history that was involved.

Storm parked her Mercedes in the same place she did the day before. Because she was over an hour early, she sat in the car for a moment to hear the end of the song that was playing. But just as the final guitar strings faded from a crescendo, the melody was interrupted by a loud beeping noise that signaled breaking news.

"We are sad to report that there has been another murder this morning," the announcer said in a somber tone, "At Eat Well Supermarket on Fourteenth street a young college woman was shot and killed early this morning. While it is rumored to be another attack of the .45 Caliber Killer, authorities have yet to comment--

"Damn," Storm muttered, shutting off the radio. Her cell phone was turned off, and she knew that it would be filled with voicemails now.

She looked at the hospital building. Chance was probably already there or on his way.

"This case just keeps getting deeper," she said to herself. Then she climbed out of her car and headed inside. She had work to do.